


Green Light Means Go

by MalsWords



Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Neck Kissing, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Showers, Smut, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalsWords/pseuds/MalsWords
Summary: Weasel thinks he may, in fact, be suicidal. No, not literally, but he thinks that custom making weaponry for a lethal, murder-happy and indisputably insane mercenary and leaving it at his house for Valentine's day might count.





	Green Light Means Go

**Author's Note:**

> Realised this pairing has next to no works, and was generally outraged. A general mix of comic and movie Deadpool/Weasel. Characters don't belong to me, etc etc.
> 
> Enjoy, and as always please leave a comment to tell me what you think!

~*~

 

_ Wade, xoxo _

 

This was his worst idea, ever. His writing is shaky and offensively sharp, but he tucks the little card into the slot on the fully packed box and drains the rest of his beer. Before losing his nerve, Weasel clicks the spare teleporter belt and clenches his eyes closed as he and the box are suddenly oppressively weightless, all of his senses cut off. While the  _ concept  _ of teleportation has always been absolutely fascinating and one of Weasel's personal loves, the actual act was always awful.

 

Weasel jolts back to reality and the smell of must and mold drifts to him before he's fully straightened in the dingy apartment hallway. The peeling door number is correct. Heart racing in his chest, he puts the box down and immediately dials the belt again until it hits a pre-designated set of coordinates and makes a soft chime. He reaches out and knocks on the door he's standing in front of, then sucks in air and presses the belt again.

 

Weasel thinks he may, in fact, be suicidal. No, not literally, but he thinks that custom making weaponry for a lethal, murder-happy and indisputably insane mercenary and leaving it at his house for Valentine's day might count.

 

That, and it is the  _ fucking gayest shit _ Weasel has ever done. He might as well've sent the guy flowers with a note that said ' _ I'd suck your dick for a dollar, no homo only yeah, kind of homo' _ . He's still kicking himself, but he's been customizing the Chituari-tech gun for months now, and it was truly a thing of beauty. The fact that he had completed it close enough to give it for Valentine's day of all things makes his stomach do something unpleasant that he's not willing to look too closely at.

 

Too fucking late though, his copious doses of liquid courage had worked their magic, and the deed was done. No going back now.

 

As soon as he reappears in his apartment he throws up all over the floor, the smell of sour beer and stomach acid overpowering everything and making his eyes water. Weasel tugs his glasses off and takes a few steps back before falling to his knees. Should have known two 'ports in so many moments was going to beat the fuck out of him, but it was better than trying to send a damn radioactive weapon in the mail. It takes him a few moments of head between his knees before he can rise and start cleaning the vomit out of his carpet, his stomach knotting in what he assumes is both anxiety and teleportation and alcohol not being best friends.

 

It takes Wade seventeen minutes to call and he makes it through two additional beer in the meantime. Weasel stares down at his phone incredulously while it rings, then slowly opens it and puts it to his face.

 

"Weasel." He croaks out, feeling his skin start to tingle as his stomach twists grotesquely.

 

"Weaz, hey- Did you send me a fucking gun for Valentine's day? Cause I mean I appreciate the gesture, I do, but  _ gay _ . I was thinking m-" He's cut off abruptly as Weasel panics and snaps his phone shut, heart hammering in his chest. There was a slight tightness to Deadpool's voice through the nonchalance, and all Weasel can think beyond  _ oh fuck oh god what have I done oh shit fuck _ is that he hopes Wade doesn't shoot anything in his house to test the new weapon out on. It had a fuck of a kick.

 

He drums his fingers against his beer bottle and stares numbly at the wall until the phone rings again. This time he doesn't say anything, trying to keep his breathing even, even though he's choking on his heartbeat.

 

" _ Holy fuck Weasel this thing is amazing. _ " Is the first thing that greets him, and he can't help the strangled laugh it pulls from him. Wade apparently takes that as enough of a response, so he carries on. "I just fucking  _ disintegrated _ my TV, man, and let me fucking tell you it was none of that  _ skeeooo _ bullshit those weak ass space guns usually make, look, This is-" He stops talking and Weasel hears the satisfying  _ THOOM  _ of the blast translating well through the phone.

 

Despite the fact that his face feels like it is literally burning off, Weasel nods.

 

"Y-Yeah uh- Yeah that took a bit of work, but I figured uh, you usually bitch about those sounds, so I thought I'd see what I could do if I condensed down the output of the energy matrix, which also gives it that kick? Cause uh the base model doesn't have a kick at all, you know, they just feel like a fuckin’ water gun-"

  
"-You are such a  _ nerd,  _ this thing feels like it could off the arm of a lesser man, it feels so  _ solid _ , and the way my tube blew apart was like,  _ woah _ , and  _ holy shit. _ "

 

It's been forever since Weasel has heard Wade so openly gush about a piece of tech he's made for him (although he makes a point of never making anything for free, so maybe that has something to do with it) and honestly it's got Weasel a bit on cloud nine. He sloppily sets his bottle back on the coffee table and rubs his face, massaging his cheeks where the shaky grin he's been wearing is making them ache.

 

"Yeah wait til you try it on a mook, turns bodies into chunky salsa." Something in his voice is a lot lower than he intends, and his stomach is doing those flips again.

 

Unable to sit still he gets up and starts pacing, waving his free hand as he dives into an explanation of the inner workings of the gun. Wade cuts him off several times and he hears another satisfying  _ THOOM  _ and Wade's ecstatic, manic cackling. His head swims and he has to give up his explanation, the finer points lost in the muddle of his beer and the rush of dopamine.

 

Wade is in the middle of a loosely connected rant about a small town in India when he stops abruptly and tells Weasel to hang on a sec before hanging up.

 

Weasel stands in the archway between his living room and kitchen, staring dumbly at his phone. There's a bright flash of light and suddenly Wade is in his living room, in the Deadpool suit but sans any weapons other than the V-Day gun held loosely in his fist. The bastard doesn't even look dizzy.

 

"Oh. Hey man." Weasel manages stiffly, shifting his feet awkwardly and raising his bottle in a small toast. He's suddenly keenly aware of the bits of work scattered around his apartment, wires and electronics spilling onto the floor from the work table he has shoved against one wall. It's a far cry from the way Deadpool lives like a slob, but while he's an expert at not crunching expensive parts underfoot, he can't assume the same of Wade.

 

Wade gestures at him with the gun and Weasel is really proud he only flinches a little. It's one thing to be chummy over the phone, but in person Wade had a long history of being very, very dangerous. 'Best Bud' or not, Weasel had been at the receiving end of abuse from Wade, especially shortly after Weapon X, when he had been the most violent and unstable. Old habits died hard. He wished his awful not-crush (it was not a crush!) would die, very hard, thank you very much.

 

"This thing is  _ awesome."  _ Wade breathes in a pleased rumble, and it's the only warning he gets before Wade tosses the gun onto Weasel's couch and is suddenly crowding far too close into his space.

 

"Speaking of  _ gay _ ." Weasel says sharply before Wade's hand finds his throat, and  _ oh _ , that's an interesting development, and if he wasn't paying attention before, Jack jr is definitely interested now. He sucks in a breath as Wade pins him to the wall just shy of the doorjam, knee aggressively between Weasel's legs to prevent escape. The pressure on his neck is faint, and Weasels head swims with the warmth of beer and Wade's breath through the mask.

 

"Red light green light." Wade murmurs into his ear and Weasel's brain short-circuits for a moment.

 

"What?"

 

Wade snorts like Weasel is an idiot, and the sharp sting dulls his high for a moment, just enough for him to get it.

 

"Didn't start my day thinking I'd need a safe word by dinner time, but here the fuck we are." It comes out as a harsh, breathy whisper. Weasel has the sense to be thoroughly ashamed of the blush he can tell is probably reaching all the way down his neck.

 

Wade nips his ear, hard, and Weasel jolts, dropping his mostly empty bottle to the floor.

 

"Impatient! Green, green light, fuck, just don't...  Don't--" Weasel breaks off and turns his head away from where Wade is nestled against his neck. Wade's hot breath is making the hairs on his entire body stand on end and he feels downright electric.

 

"Don't what, Stringbean, use your words." Wade mumbles into his skin, and yep that is definitely tongue and Weasel is shivering like a girl, he knows that, but the part of him that cares is slowly being turned off as other parts of him demand a monopoly on his blood supply.

 

" _ Fuck _ , Wade, I don't know, H-hurt me? Just- Jesus, don't do anything fucked up or whatever."

 

Wade stills for a moment and Weasel panics briefly. If he fucked this up he is going to be so disappointed in himself. Not that he's taken too long and hard a look at a few long showers where thoughts of the scarred merc led him down a path he wasn't entirely gung-ho about, or the butterflies that feel more like bees in his stomach when the merc is around. Or about how his cock is twitching and he's painfully hard right now.

 

"I'm not, like,  _ that _ kind of monster, have some faith in me, Weas." Wade snorts before using the thumb still on Weasel's pulse point to tilt his face back up. He punctuates the point by pressing their lips together, softly at first. Wade is dry and warm and chapped, the cracked texture of his lips enticing enough for Weasel to dart his tongue out to slide it across Wade's lower lip. Wade  _ purrs. _

 

It's all the encouragement Wade needs, and he doesn't have to ply Weasel's mouth open to invade it with his tongue. Weasel gives it to him willingly, a soft moan slipping out before he can stop it. Wade shifts slightly and starts palming Weasel through his jeans, and holy fuck that is something else. Weasel whines, high and needy, and Wade nips at his lower lip and sucks it into his mouth in reply. It's delicious.

 

Weasel bucks slightly and remembers he has hands as they part for air. He starts sliding them up Wade's chest to circle his neck but stops himself, holding them against his pecs instead. Other than a really drunk party in highschool he has purposefully forgotten, Weasel doesn't have any experience in this sort of adventure, and has no idea what to do with his hands. Like hell he was going to be even  _ more _ girly about it, though.

 

Wade comes back to him and sucks his tongue into his mouth, and Weasel moans again, this time at a pleasingly lower register. Wade's tongue has a slight texture to it, just like the rest of his body, and it's not at all unpleasant. He's so warm on the inside it feels like he should be on fire, and Weasel lets his mind wander to other places Wade would be just as warm.

 

Wade pulls back and Weasel sighs at the loss of contact, blinking a few times to try and clear his head. Wade has stepped back and is peeling his gloves off, and Weasel stares like a virgin at a strip club as the merc strips to the waist, leaning over to work the rest of his suit off his legs. His boxers have little smiley faces on them, and for some reason that makes Weasel grin like an idiot. It's just so  _ Wade. _

 

Weasel isn't blind, or stupid. Wade is fucking  _ built _ . A lot of the mercs Weasel unfortunately finds himself around are, of course, but there's something special about Wade. He's extremely cut but also lean, with narrow hips accenting the protrusion of his abs. It's a mesmerizing combination of raw power and dexterity, and it makes Weasel's mouth water. He glances down at himself, at his own jokingly narrow hips and smooths his soft green shirt over his undefined stomach. Weasel has the body of someone who has a high metabolism, skips meals frequently, and while he doesn't really  _ know _ what the inside of the gym looks like, he has definitely done his fair share of running and trying to get the hell out of dangerous situations.

 

It definitely hasn't stopped the ladies who spend time with him lavishing him with attention, but then again, he pays those, too.

 

Wade is straightening and looking at him through the mask, contemplative. Weasel is still smiling, he realizes, and tries to wipe it off his face. He probably looks like a fucking idiot, standing there with his hand pulling at his shirt while Deadpool strips in his living room.

 

"You gonna just stand there and stare, or..." Wade says, and that's his cue to start tugging his shirt up over his head. He barely gets it up before Wade apparently gets impatient; hot, textured hands sliding up his cool sides to help pull the shirt off. Wade fixes his glasses on his nose before licking the flat of his tongue against Weasel's lips, and Weasel happily sinks his teeth into it, making Wade moan. Deft fingers are circling his hips, the button of his jeans popping open as Wade slides his fingers under his waistband of both his jeans and his boxers, palms pressed against his skin. He shucks them both down in one motion and lifts, actually  _ lifts _ Weasel out of his jeans. Weasel squeaks in a very manly way as he's carried by his hips for the few steps to the kitchen counter. Wade sets his bare ass down on the counter and tugs his socks off, which Weasel is honestly a little sad about. Nothing worse than cold feet during sex, but he supposes Wade was trying to go for a you're-just-as-exposed-as-me thing, here. Which is dumb, as he's still wearing the mask.

 

Feeling bold, Weasel tucks his fingers under the edge of the mask at Wade's neck, and when Wade only slightly stiffens he takes it on himself to gingerly slide it off. Wade blinks at him, glassy blue eyes intense and still. It's terrifying, seeing him like this, so calm and collected and...  _ quiet. _

 

"Your eyes are really.. nice." He says lamely, heat rushing to his face and making him look away. He can see Wade blink in his peripherals before he's pressing to stand between Weasel's legs, chest pressed against his cock and balls as he leans up to grab Weasel by the hair and smash their mouths together. Their teeth click and it hurts, but Wade is kissing him like he's trying to drink him, and it makes Weasel crazy.

 

"Wade,  _ please _ ." He hates begging. He's not the begging type, and he never has been, but when Wade slides those hot hands around his length he thinks about changing his resume. "Fuck _ please _ , holy shit."

 

"M'getting there." Wade tells him around his tongue, breaking off to wetly devour Weasel's lean neck. His teeth leave small, sharp flares of pain and the sensation of it adds to the overload of Wade lazily stroking him. Slowly Wade works his way lower, teeth and tongue doing a bite lick, bite lick pattern until he gets to the soft flesh of Weasel's stomach.  He's able to take more flesh in his teeth here, and with a bit of suction he leaves faint marks, just enough to leave large red rings with faint purple borders. Managing some thought about oral fixation, he thanks whatever deity is listening for Wade's talented mouth. Thankful for the ease of the tension on his spine and hips, Weasel hooks his knees loosely around Wade's biceps, admiring the view of him framed by Weasel's body.

 

The laminate counter under his hands and ass is slowly warming with his body heat, and Weasel sucks in a small breath as he relaxes and more of his lower back comes in contact with the cool surface. Wade seems to mistake the sound for something he did and hums, licking a trail through the line of hair leading down from Weasel's naval. He doesn't correct him.

 

Instead, Weasel moans like a bitch in heat.

 

"You like that?" Wade asks, and Weasel nods furiously.

 

"You're fuckin killing me, Wade."

 

"You deserve it, Weasy-peas. Best bud, friend-o-mine." Wade kisses the inside of each of Weasel's thighs and his balls twitch in response to each one in turn. He tilts his head back and groans when Wade's mouth finally,  _ finally _ finds the tip of his cock.

 

"Thought you were just gonna let me die, there." He whispers roughly, shifting his weight to one elbow so he can scrub his hand over his face and fumble his glasses off in the process. He slides them along the counter until they're against the microwave, hopefully safe from harm.

 

Wade pulls him back by plunging Weasel's cock into his mouth without warning, the whole length being swallowed up, his nose buried in Weasel's pubic hair. Apparently he has no gag reflex, because he swallows around him and the tightening sends sparks shooting behind Weasel's eyes. He lets out a sharp yell as Wade repeats the maneuver before pulling back, saliva dripping from his lips and over the hand he has twisting around the base of Weasel's cock.

 

"Oh god fuck. Wade, fuck me  _ holy shit. _ " He gasps, fingers clawing into the laminate for purchase that wasn't there. Wade hums again and takes Weasel into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head before sliding roughly down his shaft. One of his saliva-drenched fingers circles the sensitive skin of Weasel's ass and he clenches in reflex, thrusting up into Wade's mouth with the motion.

 

"Fuck!" He hisses, and Wade pulls off with a pronounced pop.

 

"Relax, Weasy, don't you trust me?" The other man sing-songs, not waiting for a response before kissing the tip of his leaking cock and licking his way down again. Weasel jolts when Wade goes right past the base of his cock and gently sucks his balls into his mouth one at a time, loosely rolling the sensitive skin around with his tongue before popping off them. The sensation is intense and a little ticklish, and it makes Weasel's toes curl. He keeps going dutifully in his adventure south, licking along the strip of skin between Weasel's balls and ass before swirling along the puckering of skin. Weasel hisses and tries to shy away, but the hand Wade had been teasing his opening with has migrated to hold his hips down.

 

Wade's tongue is hot and somehow both assertive and soft as it works to penetrate him, and Wade slides both his hands down to his ass to help spread him, Weasel's knees weakly attempting to reach his own shoulders. He whines and shifts in embarrassment, but Wade's strong hands and eagerness allow him to try to relax.

 

Obviously Wade wants this, or he wouldn't be doing it.

 

“Green light means go.” He whispers to his knees. 

 

“Ding ding, title reference.” Wade responds, shifting to loom over him, and when Weasel lifts his head to look and see what he's doing, Wade presents him with his fingers. He has an unsure look on his face, but looks like he wants to ask something. Catching on, Weasel lifts his head the fraction it takes to lick at Wade's fingers, tugging them into his mouth with his teeth. Wade smirks and presses his scarred fingertips down into Weasel's tongue, gently hooking his lower teeth and tugging. Weasel works his tongue up between his fingers and huffs a pleased sigh. It's amazing to explore the textured ridges of his fingers with the sensitive skin of his mouth.

  
"Yeah, shit, like that--" Wade encourages softly. "Fuck you're good, Weas. I'm gonna fuck you like crazy, you know. I want to try and get your neighbors to call the cops, you'll be screaming for me so loud, yeah?"

 

Weasel nods. That sounded like a fan-fucking-tastic idea.

 

"Never thought in a million years I'd be doing this, with you, on V Day of all days but what the fuck, right?" Wade continues, pulling his fingers out of Weasel's mouth and working them slowly inside his ass. Weasel lets him, nodding and not trusting his voice. It would definitely give him away.   
  
Wade goes on regardless. "But I mean it's not like I haven't given you the once over plenty of times before, right? You can only order a blowjob while making eye contact so seriously before your mind wanders."   
  
This takes Weasel by surprise.   
  
_ “Me?” _   
  
“Well yeah,” Wade is working his fingers inside him and while it's kind of uncomfortable and makes heat rise to his cheeks, it's also a delicious promise. His erection has dulled a bit since it stopped getting direct attention, but the extra foreplay had definitely helped him relax. "You're alright, in a nerdy, string-bean kinda way. Nice hair, good skin, nice ass."   
  
He slips his fingers out and Weasel's breath hitches. There's no real reply to that, he thinks. Well, there was, but he wasn't about to fluster Wade before he got what he wanted. He bucks his hips as best he can with his feet still in the air and Wade complies, gripping his thighs.   
  
He braces against the counter and slowly presses against Weasel’s entrance, and that's all it takes for Jack Jr to come surging back to attention, because holy fuck that's cock.   
  
" _ Fuck _ Wade, Holy Christ  _ I want you so bad _ ."   
  
Wade looks away swiftly, and if Weasel didn't know him so well he would take it as a blush.   
  
"We'll there's something you don't hear every day." Wade says. He's pressing against him slowly, waiting for Weasel's body to relax and allow him entry. He stops suddenly and leans down.   
  
"Weazy-peas I hate to break it to you but in my grandiose excitement I overlooked lube, which will make both of our nights a lot better."   
  
"Cupboard up to the left.” Weasel snorts, gesturing loosely. There was no way he was sending Wade off to his room or God forbid getting up. Wade dutifully pulls down a bottle of olive oil and liberally slicks himself up, sparing some for Weasel. He drizzles a little on Weasel's cock like a chef, even making a dramatic kiss motion. It makes Weas laugh, fondness blooming in his chest.   
  
Wade spares no time pushing into him with the slickness of the oil backing him up. Weasel grunts in discomfort a few times and each time Wade eases off, waiting for him to grow accustomed to him.    
  
He was wrong, earlier.  _ This _ is the gayest shit he's ever done. The thought makes him laugh again and Wade cracks a smile too, finally slid up to the hilt inside him. Wade's cock is wide enough to make him feel uncomfortably full, and he wiggles his hips a little to get used to it. That's all it takes to spur Wade into moving slowly, bitten nails digging small crescents into Weasel's thighs.

 

"You like that? I don't hear you asking for more, Weas. Come on." Wade chides, bringing a hand up to start stroking languidly at Weasel's cock. Wade doesn't lose rhythm at all from the motion, the bastard.

 

Wade's cock strikes home and Weasel  _ yells _ , clapping an arm over his mouth in horror. Wade is instantly on him, pulling his hand away and twisting the hand still on Weasel's length to try and work more noise out of him. Weasel's insides twist deliciously and he struggles to get words out.

 

"Ah! Oh God,  _ Wade _ , please, fuck me --  _ please _ ." He whines, linking his ankles around Wade's shoulders to try and pull him closer, deeper. Wade obliges, shifting his grip to tighten his thrusts and pound into Weasel relentlessly. Weasel writhes and covers his face with his hands, making sure not to block his mouth so Wade doesn't correct him again.

 

“God damnit, louder, the neighbors aren’t gonna hear your little kitty whimpers, man.” 

 

Wade slowly takes him apart. The white spots flashing behind his eyes are blinding, but Weasel can only focus on twisting himself to get more. He's starting to sweat and slide on the countertop, but every time Wade's thrusts inch him away Wade grips his hips and pulls him back again. It's altogether too much and  _ just not enough _ .

 

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, Wade, you're so strong,  _ holy shit _ ." Weasel gasps, clicking together that Wade has been all but pleading for him to praise him, "How the fuck are you real, oh my  _ God." _

 

Wade has his head down and is grunting and sighing above him, and when Weasel praises him he nudges his forehead against Weasel's knee and nuzzles there. It's surprisingly tender, a strong juxtaposition to the impact of him pounding into the body below him.

 

Weasel manages to think about having to pay escorts extra to kiss him and wonders how bad, exactly, stuff like that is for Wade. He brings his hands up to run them over Wade’s shoulders and the back of his neck where his head is lowered, delighted when Wade shivers from the contact. He digs his fingernails into Wade’s shoulders, elbows tucked in between his knees, and attempts to somehow pull the other man into him.

 

“Come on Wade, fuck.” He begs, “Oh come on, Wade! Fuck-- Fuck, Aa-a! Jesus christ you’re good, what th _ e fuck _ !” Weasel can feel the heat curling at the base of his spine and he closes his eyes and gasps, ragged and wet. He’s getting close and he hopes to christ Wade is too, because he’s not sure how much more he can take.

 

Wade spreads Weasel’s legs so he can get closer to him and pressed their mouths together, both of them open-mouthed and wet. It pushes Weasel over the edge and he loses feeling for a moment, coming inelegantly all across his stomach. Wade groans as he flexes through it, toes curling.

 

Wade keeps going for a few moments through his wind down until Weasel whines from the overstimulation, flexing his knees. He isn’t actually strong enough to force Wade off, so he tries to breathe through it and relax. He’s surprised when Wade slows and pulls out, though.

 

“Sorry, sorry, too much?” Wade says. His voice is wrecked and he sounds off, not meeting Weasel’s eyes. He feels strangely empty without Wade’s cock inside him and he files that away with all the other things he’s never going to think about again.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Wanna- Wanna shift to the shower? If you rinse off I can maybe offer you that blowjob you keep allegedly fantasizing about?”

 

Wade stills and finally meets his gaze, blue eyes shining with something that looks grossly like awe.

 

“Yeah? You gonna suck my cock, Weaz?” A slow smile spreads across his disfigured features, “You gonna let me come all hot down your throat? Fuck yeah, that sounds like a fucking deal to me, though.. You sure? You know I’m not the loveliest girl at the dance, and I understand if you’re talking with your post-coital bliss right now, because it’s not something most people actually actively suggest doing, and-”

 

“Wade. Shut up.” Weasel cuts him off, slowly sliding to step off the counter and then wincing. He reevaluates his plan and slides farther onto the counter, reaching so he can snag the paper towel off the roll beside the breadbox. He wipes himself off quickly before he scoots off and stands gingerly, his hips screaming in protest. 

Flexing, he realises it’s not the cock that’s gonna keep him walking funny, it’s the strain on the muscles down the insides of his thigh, which are bunching angrily at him. He limps a little and whines, but boldy swats Wade away when he moves to do something that Weasel assumes is detrimental to his self esteem. Like carry him, god forbid.

 

The way Wade’s scarring crinkles around his eyes makes his head swim, and Weasel realises it's concern. Wade is concerned about him, and it's absolutely ridiculous. A dry laugh bubbles up his throat before he can stop it, and the giggles render him useless for a moment. Wade Wilson, the terrifying, cruel, insane Merc with a Mouth was a tender, affectionate lover.

 

Wade is behind him as he makes his way to the small, cramped shower in his apartment, but steps past him as he gets the water running. 

 

“You're really ...beautiful.” He tells the tiles below the shower head as he turns it on, feeling the capillaries of hits face once more go into overdrive. Wade stills behind the curtain and he forces himself to continue, knowing full well Wade won't believe him, “No, I'm serious. Have you seen the way you move? I've watched you lift a table over your head like it's nothing, man. It’s- it's something else. You're like a leopard, or a panther, all muscle and grace, and then you open your mouth, dude, and you're-”

 

Wade cuts him off with a snort, but Weasel has started, and he isn't going to stop until he's drilled it into that thick, self-esteem lacking skull.

 

“- No, listen. You're funny, and fierce, and Jesus Christ, Wade, you're  _ tender. _ And I can't keep my eyes off of you. You're just incredible, ok? You're so amazing, and brave, and I'm... just-”  _ Mayday, mayday, we've got a code red overshare. _ Weasel winces at the slip of his own low self-esteem, and pulls the shower curtain back, knowing full well he's probably killed the mood. Around Wade the steam from the shower billows out in a welcoming haze.

 

There are tears in his eyes, and even the water on his face can't hide it.

 

“You can't just  _ say _ things like that.” Wade whispers, barely more than breath. He brings a hand up to scrub his face, pressing his palm into his eyes. Weasel snaps his mouth shut and steps into the shower beside him, flushing with heat and humiliation.

 

“Sorry, I know, I just- I think you gotta hear it, you know?” He shakes himself, eyes roving over the other man’s exposed skin. “Sorry, man, this is gay as hell. Sorry. I’ll just- I’m just gonna. You know.” He punctuates his own idiocy by reaching past Wade to get the cloth hanging on the showerhead, grabbing his soap off the indent in the shower wall in the same motion. Wade is still watching him, blue, blue eyes wide and disbelieving. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Weasel briefly wonders if Wade is afraid if he opens it it’ll scare Weasel away. It won’t.

 

He lathers the cloth and puts his hand on Wade’s (incredibly impressive,  _ fucking christ _ ) bicep and gently turns him, pleased when Wade complies and turns his back to him, allowing him to swirl the cloth over his shoulders, down his back. Occasionally the cloth catches on the ridges of scars, but Wade doesn’t hiss in pain or show much of a reaction, so Weasel ignores it and gently works his way down, soft suds running down the lines of the other man’s body.

 

When he gets past Wade’s lower back he kneels, soaping over Wade’s toned ass and down his thighs. He swiftly loops over his calves and then pushes and pulls each side of Wade respectively to coax him into turning around. Wade’s movements are slow, cautious. With a bit of a start Weasel realises he’s never heard Wade stay quiet for this long before.

 

Wade has his eyes closed, and his breathing is aggressively even, steadying breaths. With gentle motions he re-soaps the cloth and works his way back up again, up his shins and around his knees, across the expanse of his toned thighs. He listens to Wade sharply inhale when the cloth brushes his balls, the small grunt as he shifts his legs farther apart so Weasel can wash up under his taint, scrub the cloth up the grooves where his thighs meet his torso, slowly and deliberately over his half-hard cock. Wade moans and his cock twitches, quickly flushing with blood again.

 

Weasel bites his lip as he moves past it, rinsing the cloth and re-soaping it to wash up Wade’s tight stomach and toned abs, across his chest. Slow, methodical. Hopefully if his words weren’t getting through, his actions might. Wade’s eyes are still screwed shut and his posture is rigid, so he flinches when Weasel stands up on his toes to press his lips to Wade’s. It takes a moment for Wade to respond, but then he moans loudly and pours himself into Weasel’s mouth, biting onto his lip and grabbing his hips. He pulls Weasel into him and presses his hard cock into the groove of Weasel’s hip and he whines in return.

 

With a playful nip he pulls back, rinsing the cloth over Wade’s shoulders and tossing it back up over the shower head. With the same level of patience and care he kisses along Wade’s jaw, watching with wonder as Wade shivers and moans from the simplest of touches.

 

It was utterly intoxicating.

 

He mimicked Wade’s movements from earlier, nipping and kissing down Wade’s neck, sloppily mouthing along his collar bones, teasing his nipples before sliding to his knees. Wade finally opens his eyes and watches him on his knees, and Weasel can’t help but grin up at him, wiping water from his eyes.

 

“What the fuck, Weas…” Wade murmurs, but it’s more reverent than accusatory. He sucks in a breath as though waking up and Weasel watches his blurred form through his lashes as he leans forward and licks a strip up his hip, nips into the ridges of his skin, grips the back of Wade’s thighs to balance himself while he spreads kisses against the side of Wade’s cock.

 

Wade whines, though the sound is low and throaty, almost animalistic. Weasel smiles to himself and licks up Wade’s impressive cock, humming his own appreciation. If he has his way he’ll treat Wade so good he can’t help but come back for more. He’s worked out what Wade seems to crave, the tenderness he shows in hopes he might get it back.

 

Weasel takes advantage of Wade’s low self esteem and meets his eyes when he takes the head in his mouth, watches Wade’s head tip back against the shower wall as he moans and works his fingers into Weasel’s hair. He pulls off Wade’s cock with a lewd pop.

 

“You look so good like this, Wade.” He tells him with purpose, stroking Wade lazily as he plays along his ridged head with his tongue. Wade sighs in appreciation and cants his hips forward. He mumbles approvingly, praise and disbelief. Weasel lets him, relaxing so the larger man can fuck into his mouth, gently at first but with an increasing desperation. It's incredibly hot watching Wade whine and writhe above him, and Weasel can’t keep his hands off himself as Wade tightens his grip in his hair and thrusts against the back of his mouth. Weasel gags, and there’s tears in his eyes, but when Wade tries to pull away he digs his cracked nails into his Wade’s thighs, clamps on as Wade takes him for his own pleasure, moaning and rambling above him.

 

“Fuck Weas I can’t take you, oh-- Oh  _ fuck _ .” Wade shouts as he comes, thick and bitter and too much to swallow. There’s a long trail of semen connecting him to Wade’s cock when he pulls away, and he can’t help but cough, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His own cock is aching and he finishes himself quickly while Wade recovers, screwing his eyes shut as he spills over his fist and across the bathtub floor. He watches for a moment as the water works to rinse it away, gasping for breath. When he’s stopped seeing spots he meets Wade’s wide, pleased eyes, smiling smugly. Under the weight of Wade’s gaze he brings his own spunk-covered hand up to his mouth and licks his fingers, and Wade moans and covers his face in exasperated approval.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ .” Wade whines again, and, seeming to find himself he joins Weasel in kneeling and grabs his chin, kissing him aggressively.

 

“Yeah, man, fuck.” Weasel agrees when Wade pulls away. Drowsiness is creeping up on him and he gently slumps forward against Wade, unable to keep the pleased smile from his face. Wade reaches behind them to turn off the shower and moves past him to stumble out and assumably search for a towel. He returns quickly and tosses the towel over Weasel’s head, drying his hair for him. Weasel shifts away and takes to drying his own hair, though he accepts Wade’s silent hand and allows him to pull him to his feet. He stumbles when he steps out of the tub, legs still crying out from the earlier abuse.

 

This time, when Wade lifts him up to carry him to his bedroom, he doesn’t stop to think about his self esteem. Instead, he lets his head rest against Wade’s chest and sighs.

 

Best idea _ ever. _

 

~*~


End file.
